Wilson In The Morning,
by lbc
Summary: Different views of Wilson in the morning and the consequences. Preslash. House and Wilson. I have posted chapter 4, Wilson At Bay. It is intended as a transition chapter to the arc of stories that are coming next week.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Wilson In The Morning: Love Handles

By: lbc

Pairing: House/Wilson

Rating: G

Genre: slash

Disclaimer: I sure wish I owned these characters.

Words: 886

Summary: Wilson is awakened early by House.

Note: This is intended as a 3 part arc – each part is short. Will be posted for the 3 days around Valentine's Day.

Feedback welcome.

6:00 am, February 13

The bed was warm; the room was dark, and the bleating blare WASN'T the alarm clock. James Wilson sat straight up in bed, instantly hostile to the loss of the warmth that resided there. Although his brown eyes were having trouble focusing, it was readily apparent that this wasn't his bed - - not because he recognized it as such, but because he recognized the bleating blare of . . . Gregory House, who was braying loudly at the ungodly hour of 6:00 am.

"Come on, Wilson. Wakey, wakey. You sure are a lazy guest. It's time to get up and take a walk."

Wilson's long hair in front was hanging over his forehead in disheveled chaos, but he looked totally adorable . . . and confused. Scrunching up his face, he asked, "Take a walk? Take a walk? What have you done with Greg House, the original primeval sloth?"

"You're always nagging me about not getting enough exercise, so like the good friend I am, I'm encouraging you to get out and walk. I'll even accompany you."

"What is this?"

"I've just been noticing . . . well, since you've been mooching off me again and staying here that you've got . . . quite a set of love handles on you."

"Love handles . . . me?"

"Well, yes or your skin is rippling from profligacy."

Wilson squinted looking carefully at his friend who seemed to be dressed and ready to venture out. "What's going on?"

"All right, all right. I didn't want to be the one to break this to you, but Allison Cameron mentioned the other day that you had these love handles . . . how she knew that I won't comment on, but I felt that it was my duty to help you get rid of them."

Fearful of a punch in the mouth, House sighed as he watched his friend get out of bed and head, not towards his vulnerable body, but to the bathroom. Within minutes, the two men were out walking down the sidewalk. Within a few more minutes, it was obvious that House was struggling and that his right leg was aching badly.

Finding a bench, the two men sat down. They had spoken very little during the short walk, but James Wilson had been thinking. "I get this now. Cameron didn't say anything about me having love handles, she said it about you, and you just got me up to accompany you like the sadist you are."

House lightly slapped his forehead. "Well, duh, you figured that out, did you? Besides, it was Cuddy who said you had the love handles. I don't listen to Cameron, so it must be my concern for your pudgy parts that's got us out here."

Wilson's eyebrow shot up. Shyly he asked, "Is that all it is? Aren't you really wanting to know how Cuddy would know if I had love handles?"

"Are you saying that I'm nosy about your love life?"

"Well, it sounded kind of like that, but I don't know how Cuddy knows unless it was that time in the men's locker room in the gym."

Realizing what he had just said, Wilson dropped his head to his chest, looking down at the sidewalk, refusing to look into House's blue eyes. Knowing House wouldn't let it rest, Wilson cringed when he heard the mocking words, "Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy, naughty, naughty . . . tell us more."

James Wilson knew Greg House very well. He could hear in those words, something much deeper than just mockery. Figuring that only bravado and truth would do, he smiled devilishly and replied, "You should talk, House. After all, it wasn't me that Cuddy followed into the men's toilet and saw you take a whiz! Talk about Doc on the run!"

"I told you that in strictest confidence, now you throw it in my face."

"Okay, okay. Here it is. I was being paged, but I was playing squash with Chase, and I didn't hear the page so Cuddy came down to look for me. She found me; I changed out of my outfit and raced upstairs to help a patient. WHILE I WAS CHANGING, she saw my manly chest and didn't mention any love handles, so there."

For a minute, House stared into Wilson's innocent eyes then asked seriously, "Are you telling me the truth, Romeo?"

"Definitely . . . let me ask about Cameron mentioning your love handles."

House pushed himself up with the help of his cane. Fortunately, they hadn't walked too far because his leg was stiffening on him. Looking down at the seated man, House replied, "That is a tale for another day, Jimmy. Besides, she was wrong, I do not have love handles; that's my lovableness bulging out all over."

As Greg House limped down the street towards his condo, he could hear the younger man's very loud and vocal snort of disbelief.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Wilson In The Morning: Dependence

By: lbc

Pairing: House/Wilson

Rating: Mature adult

Genre: slash

Disclaimer: I sure wish I owned these characters.

Words: 570

Summary: House is woken up.

Note: This is the second part in the arc. Very short.

8:00 am, February 14

Greg House lay in bed, warm and with little pain for once. It must have been a cloudy day over New Jersey because the curtains which covered the windows kept the room refreshingly dark. Suddenly, a blazing light appeared overhead.

Throwing his hand over his sensitive eyes, House carefully opened one eyelid to try to focus on what was causing the blinding light. "Happy Valentine's Day, House."

House sat up in bed, shaking his head to clear it of the five or was it six cans of beer from last night's orgy of beer, pizza, and the monster machine spectacle that had blazed across the New Jersey horizon, in the form of a TV program called, "The Monsters Do It."

Wilson had stayed over and House had thought they were sleeping in. His leg had given him an extra reprieve of an hour or so. He had not noticed the absence of Wilson's warm body, but now it was standing in front of him . . . grinning and holding out a tray. Eyeing the tray House noticed a mug of hot coffee and a plate with a piece of toast shaped like a heart.

About ready to let loose with a blazing barb about waking a man up when he was sleeping, House halted his diatribe of sarcasm when he saw the look on James Wilson's face. The man had been his friend, his only friend for almost 18 years; how could he throw the gesture back in the man's face, but the look in the beautiful brown eyes disturbed House. He liked Wilson, maybe even loved him . . . if that emotion was possible for his starved psyche to comprehend, but he wanted nothing . . . nothing to damage the friendship that was the living source of his survival on the planet and especially in the world of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.

Picking up the toast, prepared just the way he preferred it (except for its shape), House grimaced a smile, "Thanks, Jimmy. What time is it?"

Wilson smiled. "I let you sleep a bit late. You really need to get up; remember Cuddy wanted to see you early today."

"Don't worry. Besides, I have a box of candy for her; she'll be so amazed that I'm human that she won't notice my being late."

"You bought her some candy?"

House turned as he was heading towards the shower and quirked his eyebrow. "Nah, one of my patients left it behind - - allergic to chocolates."

Wilson shook his head as House went to shower.

Twenty minutes later the two men were walking into PPTH with the heart-shaped box prominently displayed. Allison Cameron suddenly appeared, smiling broadly. "Oh, Doctor House, you've got a secret sweetheart! Congratulations!"

House stared briefly then blurted out, "Nah, if I don't feed my love handles every day they start having seizures and doing all kinds of crazy things."

As House walked off down the corridor towards Cuddy's office, two people stood staring after him. One looked on in amazement, her open mouth reminiscent of a burbling guppy, and the other looking on with wistful need.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Wilson in the Morning: Independence

By: lbc

Pairing: House/Wilson

Rating: G

Genre: pre-slash

Disclaimer: I sure wish I owned these characters.

Words: 733

Summary: House wakes Wilson with some advice.

Note: This concludes the 3-part arc. Thanks for reading. Feedback welcome.

5:30 am, February 15:

Gregory House lay on his back with his right arm over his eyes. He was not asleep, and the warmth of James Wilson's body comforted him in his niche only inches away. For the last 3 mornings the two men had slept next to each other. It was time for House to make a decision: a decision that was painful, but might preserve his friendship with the younger man.

House had slept very little, and, for once, it had not been because of the throbbing pain of his right thigh. He had always been an insomniac but even more so since the infarction. The Vicodin usually let him relax but not always sleep. Strangely, the mere presence of James Wilson, in his bed, seemed to alleviate that situation to some extent. Now, however, House was resolved to take drastic steps so that his dependency on his friend did not stretch into an area where loss of Wilson's friendship might be waiting.

House knew the moment when Wilson woke. The younger man now lay between that world of sleep and full waking. It was time for Greg House to make his move.

"You finally awake?"

"What?"

"Did you forget what day this is?"

Wilson ran his hand over his face, blinking several times as he often did when he first put in his contacts. "What are you talking about? It's a Wednesday . . . I think. Is that meaningful . . . or even relevant to this discussion?"

"Of course, it is. It's independence day!"

"What are you talking about . . . that's not for months, yet."

"Wilson, for a man who was _Magna Cum Laude_ and a _Phi Beta Kappa_, you are remarkably dense. Today is independence day . . . for both of us. Remember the rousing speech that the President gave in that movie? Well, today some ass is going to be kicked! I think it's time that you stop hanging around here. Stand up; be a man; go tell your wife . . . "Honey, I'm home; let's go to bed. If that doesn't work then, Honey, that big gorilla that's in my place in bed is going to be named co-respondent; let him pay for your support."

Wilson pushed himself up on his elbows and looked through the gloom at House. "House, what are you talking about?"

"Jimmy, you've been hanging around here for days. You always do that when you've had an argument with one of the wives. I'm tired of being an enabler; go get a backbone and bring on independence."

Wilson tried to cover his stricken face, but he couldn't do it quickly enough. House briefly thought of reneging on his promise to himself, but lay there silently. Wilson shook his head and blurted out. "Man, do I have to pee."

Grabbing a sheet, he quickly got up and headed for the bathroom. House slumped back on his pillow, covering his eyes. Apparently Wilson hadn't understood his less-than-subtle message. He would have to be blunter. Suddenly, House's remembered that Wilson had left his clothes in the bathroom, but it was too late. The older man could hear the quiet click as the front door of the condo was shut.

His body barely cooperating, House got out of bed and limped quickly into the living room. As he looked out the window, he could see the silver Lexus, driving away. House tried to tell himself that he should feel satisfied that his strategy had worked, but he felt totally empty, just as he had done all those years before when he had walked out on the younger James Wilson.

The pain in his leg was like a hurricane blasting through concrete defenses. House started to limp out to fix a cup of coffee and swallow some Vicodin when he spotted a piece of paper on his piano. The slender figure stood there, projecting the agony that he felt.

_House,_

_The divorce was final two weeks ago. Sorry, I bothered you._

_Wilson_

House closed his eyes, shutting out the independence he had gained at such a cost.

The End of this arc


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Wilson At Bay

By: lbc

Pairing: House/Wilson

Rating: Mature adults

Genre: pre-slash

Disclaimer: I sure wish I owned these characters.

Words: 535

Summary: House confronts Wilson.

This is intended as a connecting link to the short 3-part arc that is the conclusion to the story. It will be posted next week. Thanks for reading.

5:00 pm, February 16:

It had been over 24 hours since Greg House had seen James Wilson. It was like Wilson had disappeared off the face of the earth. He was at the hospital, but the page for a consult had resulted in that idiot, Cruikshank, showing up to "see the patient". House had dealt with him quickly and thoroughly. He doubted the young man would ever step within radar range of Greg House again.

House had done everything he could to find Wilson, all to no avail. The young oncologist had not returned to his apartment so February 15 died the miserable death that it so richly deserved. The next day was no better. James Wilson was definitely avoiding him and anyone who even remotely had anything to do with Greg House. Even Lisa Cuddy professed to know little about Wilson's schedule, and the results of hacking her schedule drew a blank.

Depressed, Gregory House gave up and headed back to his own office. Grabbing his computer, the diagnostician headed towards the door when he heard a strange noise from the next office - - James Wilson's office. Using the balcony entrance, House made his way towards the darkened office. House's blue eyes had difficulty making out the individual hunched down in the seat behind the desk, but the aroma that was James Wilson filled the scruffy-faced man's nostrils.

House stood, staring at the man who had been his friend for almost two decades. "You've been avoiding me."

"House, not everything is about you. I've had a hell of a day. Lost two patients, including a child, so don't go feeling sorry for yourself. I need to be alone; do you get my meaning?"

House hesitated then threw out the question that was rolling around in the pit of his stomach. "Are we still friends?"

Wilson's sad eyes looked up at House. He had become accustomed to the darkness so he could see the weariness on the handsome face. Hesitating slightly, Wilson stood, "Sure, we're friends. Thanks for asking. Now, I have to get going. Got some packing to do."

House raised his head as he heard the words, "packing."

House stood his ground as Wilson put various folders in his briefcase and stored his computer. With his voice, dripping sarcasm, House inquired, "What, running away again?"

Wilson smiled a bleak smile, "Nah got permission this time, I've been hesitant to do this until after the divorce came through; now, I'm free . . . independent. Billingsly, Travis, and I are going to do a three months exchange program with Hopkins. As our late less-than-revered President Nixon once said . . . sort of. You'll have to find someone else to kick around. Good night, House."

With those words James Wilson walked out of his office and out of Greg House's life.

Arc #2 should appear next week.


End file.
